


Bromancy

by Pinkerton



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Magic, Drinking, Future hot dad Jack Zimmermann, Humor, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Playing fast and loose with folklore, Probably influenced by the insane amount of times I've rewatched BtVS, Recreational Drug Use, Total ridiculousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4252542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkerton/pseuds/Pinkerton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remember the time Jack said the couch growled at him? A story of magic, babies, romance, bros, and too many pies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jack Zimmermann Was Only Trying to Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** Update from 12/15/2015***
> 
> I started this in the hiatus between "Shiny" and "Junior Show," and finished it the day after "Post III: Last Game" was posted. The start to the first chapter is now totally non-canon compliant. Oh well! Such is the life of a (very slow) fic writer.

After the seemingly endless playoffs, they'd won. 

It was worth every sore muscle, every bruise, every minute of lost sleep and study time. Hoisting the trophy had been everything Jack had hoped for. His team, man. His team. Their faces had been blurs of joy and tears and smiles around him, screaming and shouting for what felt like hours of celebration. Precious memories, every one of them, memories Jack would hold close in his rookie season. 

The NHL seems far away, though, when he's safe in the Haus, tucked into his bed, blankets cozy around him. His pillow has never felt so soft, or smelled so sweetly of summer mountains, whatever that means. As his eyes shut, he notices a faint light across the room where his phone is charging on his desk. Bittle’s nightly “sleep well” text, for sure. Bittle, who was the first person Jack looked for when the game buzzer sounded. Bittle, who’d pulled out a tray of victory cupcakes from a hidden spot in the overhead storage the moment they were back on the bus. Bittle, who is kind, and smart, and brave, and the fastest thing Jack has ever seen on skates. Bittle, who is not only five years Jack’s junior, but his teammate, and thus doubly forbidden fruit. Jack usually tries not to think of Bittle right before falling asleep, because having breakfast across the table from someone you had a sex dream about is awkward, but tonight is a night of victory, so Jack lets his mind wander as he nestles into his pillow. He pictures the soft swirls of hair that brush against Bittle’s neck; the way Bittle’s eyes reflected the arena lights. His laugh, low and easy. “Jack,” dream Bittle says, his face flushed, biting his bottom lip just a little. “Jack, you know—“

Jack will never find out what Dream Bittle meant for him to know, because the damn baby won’t stop crying.

Wait. What?

\+ + + + +

Jack thumps down the stairs, Shitty and Bittle close behind, following the sounds of crying to the living room. 

There is a baby on the couch. 

More specifically, there is a howling, red-faced baby tucked into a cocoon of blankets on the couch. 

Jack stops dead in his tracks, Shitty running into him. Bittle pulls up beside them and claps his hands over his mouth in shock, then thinks better and rushes forward to pick up the infant. The baby pauses its wailing to assess Bittle, hiccups, and starts crying again at a slightly lower volume.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Ransom says, barreling into the room and stopping short when he sees what’s in Bittle’s arms. “Oh. Okay. That…explains the texts.” 

Holster comes in behind him, socked feet sliding on the floor. “Rans, I told you we should have called him from the bus when we couldn’t read them.”

“Called who?” Jack asks at the same time Bittle says, “Someone call the police.”

As if in answer, the couch growls, the cushion trembling enough to knock a game controller to the floor. Bitty clutches the baby closer to him, angling his torso away from the couch protectively. A small cloud forms and the smell of sulfur fills the air. The baby stops crying and begins to coo as the cloud dissipates to reveal a very short being. He’d look like any other four-foot tall bro in his Samwell tank and board shorts, except his skin is green and pebbly, with spots of what almost looks like rust. He’s wearing a snap back, and below the brim his eyes are darting from Ransom and Holster to the others. 

“Chad! Is that the quickest you’ve become corporeal? C’mon, fist bump!” Ransom cries, moving forward with his fist extended.

The creature’s mouth curves into a pleased smile as he moves over to Ransom, not just completing the bump but blowing it up at the end. 

He’s grinning as he turns back toward the remaining Hausmates, the effect of the smile kind of ruined by his pointed, yellow teeth.

Holster clears his throat. “Um, guys. This is Chad.”

Chad ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck. His voice is deep and rumbly as he says, “I’m your couch demon. Nice to meet you. I, uh, already know your names.” 

“Shitty,” Bitty says faintly, “Please take this baby away from me cause I feel a little—“ but whatever he was planning to say is lost when Jack starts laughing hysterically and sits down heavily on the floor, his head in his hands.

“My dealer gave me the wrong fucking package,” Shitty says, stroking his moustache with a shaking hand. 

Holster sighs, moving forward and taking the baby out of Bitty’s arms. “Well, that could have gone better.”

\+ + + + +

They are sitting around the kitchen table, passing around the bottle of good whiskey Shitty usually reserved for celebrations. “Can you run that by me one more time?” Bitty asks, draining his glass and reaching for the bottle. 

“I don’t see what’s so hard about this,” Ransom says. The baby is asleep in his arms, drooling against his chest. “Holster dated an anthro major, who ended up one in fouring while on a dig, but brought back a good luck bracelet for me anyway—“ Holster clears his throat, looking pointedly at Ransom. Ransom sighs and continues, “I’m sorry, a mystical ceremonial stone amulet that isn’t at all hideously ugly, that was supposed to calm my test anxiety. Except I spilled some solution on it during a lab, and turns out that plus the dish soap I used to clean it conjured Chad.”

Everyone’s heads swivel to look toward the head of the table, where Chad is sitting and making faces at a can of Natty Light. He looks up and gives a little wave to the group before leaning over to Ransom. “Rans, this tastes bad.” 

“It’s supposed to,” Ransom answers. Chad sighs. 

“You…accidentally conjured a demon,” Jack says slowly.

“Yeah, but Chad’s cool. Once he got the hang of staying in his corporeal form, we taught him how to play Mario Kart! Also, he’s pretty much our team’s number one fan.”

“I watch all your games on the campus TV channel,” Chad says, spinning the can on the table. “Oh! Congrats on the championship!”

Bitty, who has his head on the table, mumbles, “Can we please call the police so they can find out who abandoned this baby? And also check the baby for MRSA or herpes or whatever it might have caught from the couch?”

“Hey, the couch isn’t that bad!” Chad says, a little testily. “It’s my home, c’mon. And the baby wasn’t abandoned. Here’s the thing, I tried to text Ransom and Holster when I realized what was happening, but I guess I had my keyboard on Sumerian--“

Bitty sits back up and pours himself more whiskey.

\+ + + + +

Meeting Chad does not even remotely weird out the two officers Child Protective Services sends an hour later. Officer Rodriguez actually rolls her eyes as she unpacks canisters of formula onto the kitchen counter. “Man, the Salem residuals keep spreading further and further out, don’t they?”

“Mmmhmm,” Officer Johns hums from her spot at the table, bouncing the baby on her knee. The baby burbles and reaches for her earring.

“So, gentlemen, here is how your baby works--” Officer Rodriguez begins before Bitty sits up quickly, pushing his empty glass away, protesting as politely as possible even while drunk. “Excuse me, officer, I hate to interrupt, but this isn’t our baby.”

“Sure she is,” Officer John chimes in, pulling her earring out of range in the nick of time. “This isn't the first time we've seen something like this, Mr. Bittle. Chad, what’d you use to conjure this little one? Fingernails? Tears?”

Chad’s cheeks turn a darker shade of green, and he quietly says, “There were some hairs on the back of the couch--“

“So, we’ll just put ‘house occupants’ on the form as unknowing materials donors and temporary fosters. I need to list everyone who lives here. Is Zimmermann one ‘n’ or two?”

Jack glares at Chad. Eric slumps over again, making a distressed noise, and Shitty moves to pet his hair soothingly. Chad shifts in his seat, and clears his throat before shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He opens his eyes and fixes his gaze on the baby. “This is not how I wanted to meet all of you.” 

“Well, not all of us,” Jack spits out.

Ransom and Holster have the good sense to look guilty. 

Chad shakes his head. “Nah, they freaked out so bad when I first appeared that I had to cast a secrecy spell over them, but since I’ve willingly appeared to you all, that’s void.”

Shitty holds up a finger as if to ask a question, but is shut down by Jack’s best captain stare. 

“First of all,” Chad continues, “You guys should know that I’m only 205 years old. I mean, I’m barely out of the summoning gang, you know? I was really surprised that my master sent me up to answer Ransom’s call instead of my brother, Larry.”

“Larry,” Bittle says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. “You’re a demon named Chad and you have a brother named Larry. Of course.”

“Yeah, Larry’s the best!” Chad enthuses. “His transfigurations are sick—he turned a wombat into a regular bat when he was only 130! But, for some reason the Powers that Are sent me up instead and I was all ready to do the bidding of he who called me, but it turns out Ransom wants to not be so anxious, and weirdly that's a super tricky spell, like, maybe even too hard for Larry, so—“

“Hey, Chad,” Holster says, gently. “Maybe just focus on the part with the baby conjuring?”

“Oh, right.” Chad shakes his head as if clearing his mind. “Last month I was so stoked when you guys made playoffs, and I told the boys I could maybe help you along with that with a few charms and luck spells, but they said no, you had to win it honest. And I knew you could, but…I just…wanted to help. So when you hit your last game I went to conjure up just a tiny, wee little booster spell, but the pages in my spell book stuck together and…poof. Baby.”

Bitty picks up his head long enough to ask, “Was there an actual poof?”

“Yup.”

“That’s nice.”

“It was!” Chad says, brightening up.

+++

Shitty makes Bitty go to bed and the officers lay out the rules of caring for a mystical demon-conjured baby girl, while Chad tries to apologize to anyone who will listen. The baby is bound to the Haus until adoptive parents can be found, which means that a Haus resident or dibs holder must accompany her on all outside trips. She’s magical, so she might do some weird stuff, but mostly she’s a baby. Feed her, change her diaper, and play with her and they should be good. The officers are going to work their connections in Salem to find a good mystical family to place the baby with, but that could take a few weeks.

Her name, according to Chad, is Claire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate titles: "Demon Shit with Ransom and Holster" and "Chad the Haus Couch Demon Is Only Trying to Help, You Guys."
> 
> I wrote the first draft of this chapter while exhausted, so if you see any gross errors in spelling that I didn't clean up, please let me know. A million thanks to muchandquick, who came up with the title and answers my ridiculous texts about this story with encouragement and plot ideas. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr at agrossunderstatement.


	2. Eric Bittle's Day Could Have Been Weirder, But Don't Ask Him How

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every baby needs a fairy godfather, right?

Bitty pulls back from the kiss and reaches for Jack’s hand, twining their fingers together. Jack huffs a soft laugh, lifting their joined hands to press his lips to Bitty's knuckles. “Jack,” Bitty says, beaming up at him, “I’ve waited so long—“

“Bittle,” Jack says.

“Sweetheart, call me Bitty.”

“I’m going to start calling you unpleasant things in French if you don’t wake up,” Jack says without moving his mouth, and things start to go sideways, then dark, as Bitty wakes from his dream, sighing and slowly opening his eyes. Three things are instantly clear. First, he is in his own bed in the Haus, and, in the fine words of Miss Charlotte York Goldenblatt, so hung-over his hair hurts. Second, Jack Zimmermann, non-dream version, is looming over his bed, his face set into an expression of annoyance Bitty hasn’t seen directed at him since his frog days. And third, god help him, is that he is laying flat on his back and definitely has a morning wood situation. He shifts, trying to subtly move more blankets over his lap. Jack looks down at the movement and his eyes widen slightly before he looks back to Bitty's face. “We have company coming. I need your help.”

“Wha?”

Jack sighs, rubbing at his eyes. As Bitty's brain comes back on line, he realizes that Jack looks terrible. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“No,” Jack says, pulling out Bitty’s desk chair and sitting down heavily. “After the officers left, I ended up talking with Chad. He told me—well, it’s a lot, and goddamn Ransom taught him how to use Urban Dictionary a few months back, so half of what he said didn’t even make sense, but eventually Shitty and Lardo got back from the Super Target with pacifiers and god knows what else—“

“Jack…” Bitty interrupts. “Jack, I’m very hung over. Why do I need to get up? And why the heck does Lardo need pacifiers? I don’t remember her planning new work—“

“Bittle,” Jack says gently. “Think back on last night.”

Last night. Last night. Pacifiers. Chad. Officers? Did someone--

The baby.

Bitty bolts upright, then groans and clutches his head. “Oh my god, we have a baby.”

Jack sighs. “Yes, as if raising healthy, emotionally stable frogs weren’t enough. Anyway, after talking with Chad I decided to call in an expert. C’mon Bittle. Coffee’s waiting, and we’ve got an 11:00 incoming.” Jack walks across the room and halfway out the door before pausing. “Bittle,” he says, turning his head to look at Bitty over his shoulder, his eyes roaming from Bitty’s face to his blanket covered lap, “Did you call me sweetheart?”

Jack barely gets the door shut in time to avoid being hit in the head by Senor Bun.

 

\+ + + + + +

 

The baby in question apparently slept well, tucked away in the attic with Ransom and Holster, who pass her off to Jack as they leave for lecture. When Bitty makes it down to the kitchen, showered and suffering a horrific headache, Jack is holding Claire in the crook of one of his big arms, making soft noises at her as she drinks a bottle. She’s swaddled tight in a fuzzy, pastel blanket, her big, dark eyes staring up at Jack. Bitty steels himself as Jack reaches down to stroke her head. He cannot deal with a headache and his heart bursting at the same time. Jack wiggles his fingers over the baby’s face, oblivious to Bitty’s delicate state. “Bittle, grab some coffee and head to the porch with me. I think one of the chairs rocks, bet she’ll like that.” Jack leaves as Bitty’s struggling the milk out from behind a six-pack, and by the time he gets to the porch, coffee in hand, Jack is rocking away, Claire asleep with her face smooshed into his bicep. Bitty gives up and lets his heart utterly melt, sitting beside Jack and squinting at the late-morning sun. He asks Jack, “Who are we waiting for? Is CPS coming back?”

“No,” Jack says, carefully reaching to the side table where his phone is, making a soothing sound as his movements make Claire wiggle. “Bittle, I’m going to have to ask you to trust me on this one.” He glances at the screen of the phone. “Yeah, sorry, we’ll explain as we go, his text says—oh.” Jack looks up at the sound of a car rolling to a stop in front of the Haus. “He’s here.”

A black BMW pulls up to the edge of the Haus driveway. Bitty can just hear a bass beat before the engine dies but can’t make out the driver through the heavily tinted windows. The door opens, and out steps Kent Parson. Clutching a cup of coffee as if he life depended on it, he uses his free hand to push his sunglasses up onto his head, making the mess of blond waves even worse.

“Good gracious!” Bitty says, as Jack gets up from his seat, passing Claire over to Bitty.

Kent looks towards him and half smiles, waving with his coffee-free hand. Kent looks from Bitty to Jack to the baby, his hesitant smile shifting to a full on smirk. He shakes his head as he walks toward the porch. “Oh my god, it’s true. S’up, DILFs?”

Jack groans, then hops down the porch stairs, walking up to Kent. They stop a few feet away from each other, Jack looking at Kent and shoving his hands in his pockets, Kent reaching to scratch the back of his neck, both of them looking at the ground.

Bitty sips his coffee and looks down at Claire. “These boys, huh baby girl?” She blinks solemnly at him. “That’s right, sweet pea. Let’s help them out.” He winks at her, then lifts his head to softly shout, “Gentlemen, y’all gonna stand there all day? Say hi and come to the porch. Claire’s being extra cute, you don’t want to miss it.”

Jack and Kent startle a bit, ceasing their earnest study of the broken sidewalk to look at Bitty. “Yeah, okay,” Jack says, turning back to Kent. “You got here quick.”

Kent shrugs, glancing side to side. “You know how I drive. We’ve gotta hustle though. If I don’t make it back to Boston in time for the team’s flight home, I don’t really want to think about the consequences. You’re lucky Coach was still in a good mood from last night’s game.”

“Yeah,” Jack says, “he should be after that goal you scored. Rask never had a chance.  
I really appreciate—“

“Zimms, if you hadn’t called I would have been pissed,” Kent says. “You look like hammered shit, by the way.”

Jack nods, looking over Kent’s shoulder at the car. “A Beamer, Kent? Did you loose the watch in a poker game and need something else to scream yuppie or what?”

Kent smiles, “Okay, so we’ve moved past awkward and straight to your terrible chirps. Good.” Kent rolls his eyes and heads back to the car. “Come help me carry this stuff. You’re lucky the stores in Salem open early.” Jack jogs to the car and soon the two are toting multiple duffels and shopping bags toward the Haus. “Hey, Bittle,” Kent calls as he follows Jack up the stairs to the porch. “Good to see you again. I’m hoping to actually get a piece of your famous pie this time around.”

Bitty exhales sharply in response, fixing Kent with a look. “You’ll have to mind your manners when you’re in my Haus this time, Parson.” He regrets the words the moment they’re out of his mouth. Jack stops dead in his tracks, staring at him with an open mouth, the two heavy looking bags he’s carrying momentarily forgotten.

Kent tips his head to the side, thoughtful. He pauses, regarding Bitty, his eyes glancing to Jack, too. “Well,” he says, “I mean, I’ve heard really amazing things about the pie. I’ll try to be on my best behavior.”

Bitty eyes Kent warily, then nods once. “Okay. Fair chirps are allowed, but keep it clean, y’hear?”

Kent actually laughs at this. “Okay, sure. C’mon, we have a lot of work to do.”

“We?” Bitty asks, as the same time Claire makes an unhappy mewing sound in his arms, and spits up all down his shirt. Kent makes a face at Bitty before turning to hustle Jack through the front door of the Haus. The door just swings shut when Kent pushes it open again, sticking his head out to say, “I might be a Yankee, but I know my manners. I’ll have you know I was voted Buffalo’s Most Charming bachelor two years running.”

Bitty can just make out Jack’s reply from inside the Haus. “Bittle’s never been to Buffalo. He might actually be impressed by that.” Kent makes a noise of protest and turns, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Bitty sighs and reaches for the towel he’d slung across his shoulder, starting to wipe off Claire’s chin. “Same, baby girl. Same.”

 

\+ + + +

 

By the time Bitty makes it inside, Kent and Jack have tucked the bags Kent brought away, and Kent takes a few moments to make goofy faces at Claire while turning down Bitty’s offers of coffee, water, juice, soda, and seltzer. Claire starts yawning and can’t stop, and after taking several photos and a video, because baby yawns are the cutest, Jack settles her into the hastily assembled crib next to the couch and grabs the baby monitor. Lardo and Shitty did a pretty good job panic shopping, Bitty thinks. Seeing the couch reminds him of its resident. “Where’s Ch—“ Bitty begins to ask, but before he can finish Jack slaps his hands over Bitty’s mouth, and Kent blanches. “Bittle, no,” Jack says, hustling him up the stairs and into his room.

He lets him go as soon as the door shuts. “What on earth, Jack?” Bitty says.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t say that name while Kent’s in the house.”

Bitty rubs his fingers across the bridge of his nose. “Boys. I need some explaining to happen. I have a hangover from hell, there’s a mystical baby in the living room, Kent’s here and I have not idea why, and I am about to lose my mind.”

“I can fix one of those problems,” Kent offers.

“What?”

Kent leans forward. “I can fix your hangover. Just…you have to let me put my hands on your face.”

Bitty throws his hands in the air. “Fine, cause that makes sense. Sure, I don’t—“ and Kent moves quickly, placing his fingertips flat against Bitty’s forehead, murmuring a few soft words. When he pulls back, soft gold shimmers extend from the tips of his fingers to Bitty’s face.

Bitty stares at Kent. Kent has the good sense to look a little bashful. “Um, see, the thing is, well—“

“He’s a fairy.” Jack finishes.

Bitty blinks at them both.

“You know,” Jack continues “Fae? Or at least three quarters? He can do magic?”

“Zimms, you sound like a sorority girl with the intonation.”

“I’m worried Bittle is going to pass out. Look how pale he is.”

“’m not gonna pass out,” Bitty says, though he does feel awfully shaky. The shimmers have faded, and so has his headache. “My hangover is gone.”

Kent grins.

Jack sighs.

 

* * * * *

 

The boys and the baby monitor end up in Bitty’s room. Bitty’s bed is covered in the bags Kent brought. A faint, earthy smell is emitting from them. Once extra chairs are borrowed from Jack’s room, Kent locks the door and clears his throat. “Bittle, I’m going to have to ask you to keep all this a secret.”

“…okay?” Bitty replies, wrinkling his nose. The smell from the bags is getting stronger. Kent looks at Jack, who nods his head “He’s good for it. I already told you.”

Kent shrugs. “Fine, fine. Bittle, help me unpack this stuff.”

Bitty and Jack let Kent direct them, unpacking small paper envelopes and glass jars, getting a “Careful, careful!” when a round stone slips out of Bitty’s hands and rolls across the floor. As he retrieves it, something comes to mind.

“Demons. Fairies. Is….am…is this normal?”

Kent peels the paper wrapping off what looks like some kind of dried leaves. “Yeah, it kind of is. Most of us use a veil so mortals—“

“You are not immortal,” Jack mutters.

“Excuse me, Zimms, can I please finish telling Bittle about my people?”

Jack grunts and turns back to the large bundle of knobby sticks that Kent has asked him to sort by size order. “Carry on, oh fae one.”

“Thank you. Anyway, Bittle, there’s magical beings around, for sure, especially in this neck of the woods. I mean, you’ve currently got three in your Haus.”

“Okay,” Bitty says, “so why can’t I say the name I can’t say?”

Kent shudders. “Demons and fae do not get along, Bittle. That thing could, at best, try to eat me.”

Bitty laughs. “But he was so nice last night!”

Kent’s eyes narrow and Bitty could swear his teeth get a little pointy. “That abomination is NOT nice.”

“Okay, Parse,” Jack says, stepping between them. “Let’s not accidentally hex Bittle just for asking questions.”

“First, that happened when I was 14 and I have much better control now, thank you very much. Second—“ Kent begins.

Bitty tunes out Jack and Kent’s voices, focusing on sorting out a small box of colorful pebbles. When the task is done, he turns his attention back to Kent and Jack, who are still bickering. “Wha—“ Bitty starts, because it looks like Kent is trying to take off his shirt, and Jack is pulling it back down over his stomach.

“I didn’t need to back then cause I didn’t have a cat when we were in juniors. You don’t want to know what happens when a stray cat hair gets into the mix!” Kent says, his voice getting louder.

“You are not spell casting naked!” Jack yells. “Buy a goddamn lint roller!”

“Spoken like someone who’s never had a fucking pet. You can lint roll all you want but—“

“You’re gonna wake the baby!” Bitty yells, reaching to clutch the monitor to his chest.

A compromise is reached. Jack and Kent leave to get Kent some of Jack’s clothes, guaranteed to be Kitt Purrson fur free, and Bitty, out of habit, takes a moment to pull up Twitter. Phone in hand, he looks around at the room full of magic supplies, the baby monitor by his side, and touches his hand to his forehead, which was not an hour before emitting golden sparks. He closes the app and puts his phone away.

 

\+ + + + + +

 

Spell casting is way lamer than Bitty would have expected; he's almost sorry Jack vetoed nudity. Kent chants for about 5 minutes, picks up and puts down various sticks, rocks, and leaves, and then pours handfuls of crushed herbs into Bitty’s 4 cup Pyrex measuring cup. He waves his hand over the cup a few times, and then sits back, satisfied. “It’s done. You smudge a little of that on her every morning and it’ll cause confusion to those who see her.”

“Confusion?” Bitty asks.

“Do you want to explain why a hockey team has a two-month old? This will make it so you can take her out without anyone getting suspicious. They’ll see her, but they’ll forget that they did. I added some charms, too. She’s as safe as I can make her.”

“That’s awesome, Kent,” Jack says, getting up from his spot on the floor, and starting to blow out the handful of candles Kent had set up.

“Pretty much. I gotta get back to Boston for my flight. You can throw out all this stuff—it’s spent. Bittle, give me your phone. I’m going to give you my number in case of…well, just in case.”

Bitty passes over his phone, and just like that he has an NHL captain’s private cell phone number. Kent shakes Bitty’s hand and gives him a solid thump on the shoulder. “Jack,” Kent says, “come talk to me while I change. There’s a few things I need to tell you about the spell.” The two of them leave, and about ten minutes later, when Bitty is just gathering the last of the sticks on the floor into a trash bag, he hears a horn beep, twice. He pops his head out the window to look down at Kent in his car, his head sticking out the driver’s side window. “I left something on the porch for Claire!” he yells, before driving off, hitting the horn two more times.

The baby monitor picks up Claire’s sudden crying loud and clear. “Kent Parson, you menace,” Bitty murmurs, hustling down the stairs.

 

\+ + + + + +

 

The shopping bag on the porch has 3 tiny Aces onesies in it. Bitty immediately wrangles Claire into one, and just about dies of adorable.

\+ + + + + +

 

Jack stays in his room most of the day. When he comes down later, he can’t quite meet Bitty’s eyes when he says he was catching up on sleep. Claire’s first official outing is to the Murder Stop and Shop, where Bitty buys supplies for Jack’s favorite apple pie.

\+ + + + + +

 

Right before bed, Bitty hums to himself and opens up his texting app.

E Bittle: Hey Kent, thanks for the help today. Hope you got home ok!  
Kent Parson: Hey, sure. Once again, tho, no pie :(  
E Bittle: Well, since you were nice enough to come all the way down here to help, I could mail you one.  
Kent Parson: You sweet talker, you.  
E Bittle: But first you have to answer me three, by moon and by river and by dell.  
Kent Parson: What?  
E Bittle: …Jack said that would work.  
Kent Parson: Jack says a lot of stuff.  
E Bittle: Don’t you have to answer 3 questions now?  
Kent Parson: I am not dignifying that with a response.  
Kent Parson: Fucking Zimms.  
E Bittle: I’ll send you 2 pies.  
Kent Parson: One question.  
E Bittle: Is Sidney Crosby magical?  
Kent Parson: Clearly. Hard to pin down what he is, tho. Really pure energy.  
E Bittle: !!!!!!  
E Bittle: One more? Toews?  
Kent Parson: Toews is like, a quarter wood sprite.  
Kent Parson: This is not what I gave you my number for, Bittle.  
E Bittle: OMG. Okay, one more and I’ll never ask ever again.  
E Bittle: Seguin?  
Kent Parson: No magic. Just that damn talented and good looking.  
E Bittle: You think Seguin is good looking?  
Kent Parson: I have eyes, Bittle.  
E Bittle: Good point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I write this entire thing just so Kent could call Bitty and Jack DILFs? Maybe. I definitely stole that joke from Glee, tho. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Chad will return in the next chapter, don't worry.
> 
> (I slightly edited the text convo at the end. If your read this previously, some lines will be different.)


	3. Claire's Daily Adventures with Hockey Bros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daily life with hockey bros and a mystical baby aka the traditional American college experience, right? Featuring a lot of pie, inappropriate music choices, and Jack Zimmermann, future hot dad in training.

Lardo swings by around 10 the next morning to take Claire out for a walk, so Jack and Bitty lug the stroller out to the porch and gather supplies. Lardo looks puzzled when she brings Claire out to join them. “An Aces onsie? Where’d that come from?” she asks, gently settling Claire into the stroller and bending to tuck in her blanket. Jack, busy loading diapers into a tote, locks eyes with Bitty. Bitty glances at Lardo, still busy fussing with the blankets, and starts with the first thing he can think of. “Yeah, isn’t she cute in it? Uh, funny story. They…were on sale at the uh—“

“Sports Authority!” Jack offers.

“Yes, that’s right! Been a busy couple of days, I forgot. Anyway, I was aiming to get her a lil Blackhawks jersey originally, but lord, the retail prices on such tiny clothes!” Bitty finishes.

“Blackhawks?” Jack mouths at him.

Lardo straightens up, finally satisfied that Claire is warm and secured. “Bits, don’t spend too much on her. She’s cute no matter what she’s wearing.” Jack helps her lift the stroller down the steps, and as she wheels Claire down the sidewalk, Bitty can here her saying, “Claire-bear, wanna hear about how I beat the Aces’ captain at be…ah, milk pong? You do? Okay, so, once upon a time a boss named Lardo went to an epikegster at an enchanted Haus—“

Jack just stands there staring at Bitty. “Blackhawks?” he says, out loud this time. Bitty shrugs, pivots, and walks back into the Haus.

A few seconds later, he gets a text from Jack that reads, “The baby is a Habs fan, and that’s all there is to it.

Bitty laughs. “So long as it’s not the Bruins,” he types back.

“D’accord,” is the reply.

 

* * *

Jack doesn’t bring up Kent’s visit. A little before noon Bitty’s phone pings with a group text from Jack announcing a dinner meeting of all Haus residents, dib holders, and team managers at 6 sharp. Bitty’s busy debating if he should make a couple casseroles or fire up his slow cooker for pulled pork, and almost wanders past Jack, who is standing in front of the couch, frowning contemplatively. He glances up at Bitty. “Bittle, any ideas on how to summon Chad? He should be at this meeting.”

Bitty shrugs. “Ask Ransom and Holster?”

“Already did,” Jack says, sighing and running his hands through his hair. “They said he pretty much just popped up when he felt like it.”

Bitty ponders for a moment. “Didn’t you say the couch growled at you when you were trying to clean it? Maybe that was Chad. Try waving a Swiffer over it or something.”

“Bittle, that’s ridiculous.”

“There’s no judgment in brainstorming, Jack.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “But that implies brains are involved. I am not waving a Swiffer around like a lunatic.”

Bitty huffs loudly but doesn’t comment further, moving on to the kitchen to rustle up some lunch.

Twenty minutes later, Bitty is finishing eating a sandwich when Jack walks past the kitchen with a Swiffer in his hand.

Thirty seconds later, he walks back in, trailed by the smell of sulfur and a sleepy looking Chad, and sets the Swiffer next to the fridge.

“Not a word, Bittle.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Captain. Hey, Chad.”

“Yo, Bits! Smells like a fairy was here. Makes me hungry. Whatcha eating?”

“Definitely not that,” Bitty answers, kicking a chair out for Chad as Jack stomps out the back door, muttering in French.

* * *

That night, Bitty serves up pulled pork, corn pudding, and a layered salad for dinner. Everyone’s tucking into slices of coconut cream pie when Jack clears his throat to get the table’s attention. “So, frogs, you should probably finish what you’re chewing before I tell you what’s been going on the past two days…”

* * *

Dex thinks it’s a prank, even after Chad comes down stairs to join them, Claire in his arms. Chad giggles when Dex yanks on his ear, determined to “get this fucking mask off, I swear, you—huh. I mean…okay. I…yeah,” he concludes, sitting back down. Nursey’s eyes are as big as plates, and he’s saying, “Cool, cool, cool” like his brain is stuck in a loop.

Chowder, meanwhile, is half way through his third piece of pie, beaming over a forkful of whipped cream. “Oh gosh, this is the COOLEST!” he enthuses, using his other hand to make a “gimme” gesture. Chad passes Claire over, and Chowder seamlessly takes her in his free arm, snugging her against him. “Hi, cutie!” he says, moving his fork for her to follow with her eyes. She coos and squirms, one chubby fist reaching toward the fork. “Whoa, already reaching for things! Rad, you must be like, 3 months old!” He looks up, smiling at everyone’s stunned faces. “Am I right?”

“She’s a little over two, but magical babies go a little faster!” Chad says, beaming right back.

“Yeah, way to hit your developmental milestones, Claire!” Chowder says, putting down his fork and using both hands to lift Claire above his head and gently rock her from side to side. He brings her down and zerberts her tummy before he realizes everyone is staring at him. “Did you guys not know my mom runs a nursery out of our house?” he asks, looking confused.

Lardo glances from Chowder to the calendar in front of her. “So, Chow gets the first long shift tomorrow, then. “

The rest of the table nods in mute agreement.

* * *

Dex holds Claire like she’s a bomb that might explode.

Nursey holds her like a football.

Lardo is nonplussed as she fills in the color-coded baby coverage shift schedule. “It takes a team to raise an idiot conjured baby,” she says, glancing up. Shitty is bouncing Claire on his knee while Ransom and Holster half heartedly censor their curses as they play Mario Kart. Chowder is hovering next to Shitty, visibly restraining himself from reaching for Claire. Jack and Bitty are washing dishes, the plates drying next to clean nursing bottles on the rack.

“Kinda cozy, if you ask me,” she says to herself, before saving the Excel sheet to the team Google Drive.

 

* * *

Bitty’s on baby duty that night, so after he brushes his teeth he grabs the baby monitor from Shitty and sets it on his nightstand, hoping for a night of uninterrupted sleep. Claire’s usually a good sleeper, so he’s surprised when her cries wake him at 3:30. He’s just about to get up and go downstairs when Jack’s voice comes over the monitor, clear and quiet, a stream of French that means nothing to Bittle, but quiets Claire almost instantly. Bittle picks up on “ma petite” and “maman and papa” before there’s a lull, and Jack’s baritone comes through with a slight waver, soft and clear. 

_Dodo, l'enfant do_   
_L'enfant dormira bien vite_   
_Dodo, l'enfant do_   
_L'enfant dormira bientôt_

Jack alternates singing and soft talking, and somewhere around the third lullaby Bitty drifts asleep, the baby monitor clutched to his chest. The next morning at breakfast, Jack has slight dark marks under his eyes, but he looks relaxed as he grabs a smoothie from the fridge. “Sleep well, Bittle?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Claire didn’t keep you up.”

“…no, Claire didn’t.”

“Good to hear.” Jack meanders through the kitchen, whistling. It takes Bitty half a beat to realize it’s the tune of the lullaby from last night. Bitty stirs his oatmeal so hard that he almost scoots the bowl off the table.

* * *

With all the commotion of playoffs and unexpected baby acquisition, the Haus beer stash had gotten dangerously neglected. Lardo and Shitty drop off Claire with Chowder and use the afternoon to restock, chirping at each other as they lug 24-packs inside. Lardo walks into the kitchen first, stopping at the door when she sees that every available counter is covered by pie.

Chad and Bitty are sitting at the kitchen table, which is similarly laden. “Chad had never tried pie before,” Bitty says dreamily, when he notices Lardo. “So we have to find his favorite. Can you imagine not having a favorite pie?”

Chad has a napkin tucked into his tshirt and is busy using a fork to scrape every bit of cherry filling off an empty plate. “Cherry,” he gasps. “Oh my gosh, Bitty, cherry. That’s it.”

“Okay, so fruit pies are decided, then. Let’s see how you do on custards,” Bitty says, pushing back his chair and moving toward the fridge. Lardo backs away slowly into the hallway, bumping into Shitty. “Let’s just put the beer in the basement.”

* * *

Bitty storms up the attic stairs, yelling to be heard over the thumping subwoofer. “Holster, her ears! Turn it down! And change the music! Or at least stop singing to her!”

Holster reaches over and clicks the volume down, but Nicki continues to rap uninterrupted as Claire wiggles excitedly from her nest of blankets on the bed. “I’m sorry, Bits, do you or do you not want our baby to be a feminist?” Holster asks, folding his arms across his chest.

“Andaconda is not appropriate for an infant!”

“Aw, look, she likes it!” Holster points at Claire, who makes a low grunting noise and kicks her feet. “See? Who’s the cutest Nicki fan? You are! Who doesn’t understand English so it doesn’t matter what we listen to? You again, darling!”

“At least play the radio edit version?”

“I’ll switch it to Feelin’ Myself. Deal?”

“I don’t see how that’s much better, but deal.”

“Ok, mom.”

“Stop calling me that.”

Ransom swings down from his bunk and grabs for Holster’s laptop. “Yo, Holtzy, see if she’ll do the kicking thing for Trap Queen! I’m like Claire what’s up hello?”

Claire not only kicks for Fetty Wap, she gets her lil fists moving, too.

Bitty just sighs and queues up some Ke$ha.

* * *

When Bitty wakes up early the next morning, a text from Jack is waiting for him. “Meet me at Faber at 8. Bring me a coffee? :)”

It’s just after 7. Bitty groans, wondering if Jack’s early rising tendencies are contagious. “Sure,” he texts back.

“No emojis?” is the reply.

He sends 27 emoji, escalating the complexity of them as he showers, dresses, and jogs to Annie’s.

Jack responds with 27 coffee cups in one text bubble, concluding with the sunglasses smile guy.

Bitty’s doing his best to stop grinning as he adds sugar to the coffees. He arrives at Faber at 7:55 , two steaming cups in his hands, and starts winding his way through the bleachers and toward the ice.

Jack is skating away from Bitty’s line of sight, pushing off in sure, strong strokes. He’s wearing jeans and a soft looking hoodie, with something happening around his shoulders that’s making the fabric bunch. As he swoops around the curve of the rink’s edge, Bitty realizes the weird fabric bunching is caused by the sling Jack is wearing. Claire is bundled up tight to his chest, her head pressed under Jack’s chin, eyes closed and mouth slack. Jack’s smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunched a little.

Bitty almost drops the coffees.

He ducks through the closest exit, balancing the coffees on the top of a trash can so he can pull out his phone.

When Lardo hustles in 5 minutes later, asking “What emergency, Bits, how—“ Bitty shushes her and points through the door to the ice. She snakes her head around, standing on tiptoe for a second or two.

“Oh,” she says, as she turns back to Bitty. “My ovaries.”

Bitty nods.

“That’s just not fair,” she continues. They both still for a moment, then turn in unison to look once more.

Jack, still making easy loops around the ice, bends his head and kisses the crown of Claire’s head, reaching up to swipe a finger over the top of one tiny ear before gently bopping her nose.

“I stand corrected, given measures of unfair have risen exponentially,” Lardo sighs.

Bitty reaches for his latte. Lardo follows the movement of his hand.

“Is that other coffee for Jack?”

“Yup,” Bitty replies.

“So, he asked you to bring him coffee while he adorably skates with our magical Haus baby?”

“Yuuuuup,” Bitty says, popping the “p.”

“Well, then, Bits, go put on your skates and get your ass out there. I’m outta here.”

“Lardo,” Bitty says warningly, reaching out to grab her arm.

“See, ya, Bits,” she says, hopping out of the way and walking back toward the main entrance.

Bitty takes several deep breaths, gathers the coffees, and walks toward the ice with determination.

Jack leans into a curve and spots him, waving. It’s just dorky enough to make Bitty relax a little. Jack skates over to Bitty, stopping softly. “Hey, Bittle,” he says quietly. “Thanks for coming. Your skates are on the bench. Go lace up and come join us.” Bitty hands over a coffee wordlessly, and Jack takes it and skates off.

By the time Bitty gets on the ice, Jack’s making lazy figure eights and Claire is starting to wake up. Jack moves to skate backwards, facing Bitty. “I think she likes the ice.”

“I can see that. Did your dad used to do this with you?” Bitty asks, following Jack as he comes to a stop by the boards,

“Yeah, he did. I think he just zipped me into his sweater. Babies like being heart to heart.” Jack grabs Bitty’s hand, and places it into the warm, close space between his chest and Claire. “See? You can feel the heartbeat. It’s soothing for them.”

Jack keeps his hand on Bitty’s wrist, and Bitty smells the faint scent of caramel and coffee on his breath. He can feel Jack’s heartbeat against his palm, and the gentle movement of Claire pressing against the back of his hand. “Jack,” Bitty says, looking up.

Jack returns his gaze. “Bittle, Kent and I had a little chat after the spell, and he told me…well, he told me something I’ve been thinking about for the past few days.”

“About Claire?” Bitty breathes out, not daring to move.

“No,” Jack says, squeezing Bitty’s wrist before releasing it. “Not about Claire.”

Bitty’s breath is picking up as he slowly moves his hand away from Jack’s chest. “You want to share with the class, Jack?”

Jack smiles, that same crinkled-eye, scrunched nose smile that stopped Bitty in his tracks earlier. “Not yet. But soon,” he skates off, sipping his coffee, and after a few seconds, Bitty follows on shaky legs.

* * *

Chad’s supposed to be on Claire duty that night, but apparently Larry is returning from another dimension and there’s a dinner and ritual sacrifice he really needs to be at, so Jack takes the monitor and watches Chad fade into smoke. Caire’s zonked out early after a busy afternoon of looking at all the bright colors in Lardo’s art studio space, so Jack retreats to his room to catch up on some reading. It’s almost ten when he turns out his light, and his head just hits the pillow when he hears Claire start to make noise. Before he can get up, he hears Bittle’s voice over the monitor. “Hey peanut, are you sure you wanna get all rowdy this time of night? Yeah? Okay, okay, you don’t have to give me that look, I’ll pick you up. Oof, goodness, you are growing, aintcha? Mmrph, yep, that’s my nose. Hey, how about a lullaby? You liked it when Jack sang to you.”

Jack glances at the monitor. He didn’t know Bittle had heard that.

“Let’s see. I don’t know any French. Oh! How about this?

Go to sleep you little baby,  
Go to sleep you little baby,  
Your mama’s long gone with her red shoes on,  
Didn’t leave nobody but the ba…

…you know what, maybe not that song.”

Jack rolls over to laugh into his pillow.

“Hmm. Alright, we’ll just have to do what my daddy did for me when I was a baby who didn’t want to sleep. Miss Claire, I’m about to explain to you some cold hard football facts, like how the NFL is about to make a big old mess if they change the two-point conversion rule…”

Jack drifts off to sleep about half an hour later, as Bittle changes subjects and picks up steam on the horrors of artificial turf.

* * *

“Jack,” Bitty asks the next morning while they walk to class. “Have your photos of Claire disappeared?”

“Yeah,” Jack answers. “I think it’s part of Kent’s spell. Since he’s not full fae he tends to overdo it when he spell casts to make sure the important parts stick. People who aren’t part of the Haus won’t remember her, right? I guess photos fall under the protection, maybe as a precaution?”

“Oh,” Bitty says. They walk a little further before he starts talking again, his voice soft. “Are we going to remember her once they find her a family?”

“I don’t know, Bittle,” Jack says, his voice a little rough. Bitty blinks quickly a few times, and if he leans into Jack a bit for the rest of the walk, neither of them mentions it. Bitty’s subdued till he gets back to the Haus and pounces on an express delivery box waiting for him on the porch.

Moments later, Claire is nestled into a felted pie snuggie, chewing on a plush hockey puck.

Jack looks at Bitty, who simply says, “Etsy. I couldn’t resist.”

“Who could?” Jack asks, moving to put his hand on Bitty’s shoulder. Bitty reaches up and covers Jack’s hand with his own, and they stare down at Claire until they hear Chowder’s heavy footsteps coming up the porch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the English version of what Bitty heard Jack saying to Claire before he started singing: 
> 
> “Shh shh shh. Let’s let Bittle sleep tonight, eh? Oh, is that a smile? You like me talking to you? Are you lonely in here, ma petite? Were you just waiting for me to come down for a snack so we could chat? Oui? Yes, that is definitely a smile. You keep smiling for me till we find your maman and papa, okay? Then you’ll smile for them. Your smiles are so sweet, ma cherie, but you need to sleep now. Hmm. Maybe a song? You’ve got all these tough hockey players wrapped around one tiny little finger, eh? Oh, oh, no tears, mademoiselle. I’ll sing, it’s okay.”
> 
> Bitty's ill-advised lullaby attempt is "Didn't Leave Nobody But the Baby" from O Brother, Where Art Thou?
> 
> Thanks for comments and kudos. They really make my day! And a shout out to muchandquick, who suggested many of the events in this chapter.


	4. Chad's First Kegster and Other Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chad's first keg party will live in infamy, as will Chowder's questionable decorating choices. A party, a revelation, and a cliffhanger.

“But, would that hold valid for all spells, or only transmodifying ones? Like, if I were solely manipulating physical elements via magic to achieve an end result I determined before agreeing to the demands of the demon’s contract, then it seems like I would be safe because the magic wouldn’t be changing me, it would be changing mixed media,” Lardo says, toying with the glass pipe in her hands.

Chad frowns a little. “Demonic contracts are a little iffy on intent. Basically, if you use magic, you’re bound to the one who granted it to you. I don’t see a way around it. I’m…I’m not totally following you, here. Also, this stuff smells like a mix of sage and dirty feet.”

Shitty laughs. “This is some primo shit, Chad. You’re not feeling anything?”

Chad pauses and makes a thoughtful noise. “No, nothing. Is…is this why you summoned me? To settle your hypothetical questions on demon law?”

“Nah, it’s wake and bake, bro. We wanted to help you try college things.”

“Bro,” Chad says, thumping his fist to his chest.

“Maybe you’re immune?” Shitty says, gesturing for Lardo to pass the pipe back over. “Okay, so let’s try another scenario. If Lardo requests eternal artistic inspiration via demonic contract, will eternal mean what we mortals assume it to? Oh shit, are there levels of eternity?”

Lardo gasps at this, and both she and Shitty lean forward toward Chad, intense expressions on their faces. Chad is busy eying the window back into the Haus. “Uh, I can ask Larry when I see him, you know what, I think I hear Bitty asking for help in the kitchen, I better go!”

“I can’t hear him!” Lardo calls after Chad’s retreating form.

“Super demonic hearing!” Chad hollers back, booking it through the hall.

“Huh,” Lardo says. “So, Shits, if you had to put a demon on the stand as a witness in a court case, would you tell them to wear a regular suit or their native vestments?” Lardo asks.

“Well…” Shitty begins.

* * *

Shitty and Lardo head back downstairs a little later, hoping to find pie or maybe some brunch in the kitchen, but instead walk into Jack and Holster yelling at each other in front of Ransom, Bitty, and Chad.

Holster is standing at one end of the table, gripping the edge and leaning forward. “Jack, we fucking won playoffs, and it’s your and Shitty’s last fucking semester. We. Are. Having. A kegster. Tonight. ” Holster grits out, glancing behind him to where Ransom is perched on the counter. Ransom nods and opens his mouth, but before he can speak, Jack is up on his feet at the other end of the room, stepping closer to Holster.

“Did you want to give us any warning on this?”

“Jack,” Ransom says, “I think you’re missing the part where we were trying to keep it a surprise…”

Jack doesn’t back down. “We cannot jeopardize Claire like that, Holster, and you know it.“

“Ugh, just cause you hate fun—“

“This is not about me!” Jack shouts, moving to close the distance between him and Holster, as Holster yells back, “The team deserves this!” Ransom jumps down from the counter and grabs Holster’s fists, pulling him back at the same time Bitty lurches out of his chair to step in front of Jack.

“ENOUGH,” Bitty shouts. “You boys, I swear. Holster, of course we’re gonna celebrate our win and our seniors. Jack, of course we aren’t gonna put Claire in any danger. Goodness, y’all need to calm down and sit and have some breakfast and we will sort this out.”

Jack and Holster just stare at Bitty.

“I wasn’t kidding about the sitting down.”

They both do.

“There we go. I’m gonna make some eggs, and we are going to figure out how to have a Haus worthy party while taking care of our lil princess, ok?”

Ransom’s sudden throat clearing cannot hide his laughter.

* * *

There’s a couple hiccups in the Kegster planning, but eventually Lardo busts out her clip board and things fall into place. Claire will stay at Chowder’s for the night, and Chowder, Bitty, and Jack will rotate shifts. Holster and Jack continue to glower at each other, but then Ransom lets slip that Holster ordered the team matching muscle tanks with a screen-print that says “Regrets are for horseshoes and hand grenades,” on the front, and “No Regrets Senior Sendoff 2k15”. Jack noogies him, muttering, “Fuck you, I’m not wearing that”, which turns into full on wrestling.

“I told you not to go with a 30 Rock quote,” Ransom says as Holster tries to pin Jack. “But no, you didn’t want to listen to me, so now Jack is kicking your ass—aww, c’mon Holtzy, you can get out of that hold. Weak sauce, bro.”

Jack pins Holster twice, with Holster’s demand for best out of five vetoed by Bitty, who is watching the boys’ flailing limbs move closer and closer to where he stores the glassware.

* * *

The social media invites are sent, and just like that, it’s t-minus two hours to kegster.

The kegs are chilled, the air in the Haus smells of cologne, and someone remembered to buy extra toilet paper this time, thank god.

Chad hasn’t been this excited, like, ever! He and Ransom and Holster are up in the attic, and it is SO COOL. Ransom is dancing around, throwing clothes at Chad, holding up shirts and frowning, till a green plaid button down makes the cut. “Brings out your skin, man!” Rans enthuses, high fiving Holster as Chad fusses with the sleeves, settling on pushed up but not rolled. Chad wants to wear a hat, but Ransom says chicks like to see a bro’s hair. Chad nods, confused. He doesn’t have hair, but maybe it’ll be dark enough that the girls won’t notice? He’s a little unsure why so much emphasis is put on impressing human females. Demons are way less concerned about appearance, and gendered behavior, even after all his chats with Shitty, is still a mystery half the time. It’s like life isn’t hard enough, humans layer on all these extra things to delineate, but Ransom and Holster have been so nice and helpful about everything, and Chad would _never_ want to seem ungrateful--

“Chad?” Holster asks, peering down from the top bunk, where he’s searching for a speaker cord and totally derailing Chad’s train of thought. “You okay man?”

Chad grins. “It’s my first human party, Holtzy. I’m gonna…what’s the thing? Crush it?”

Holster whoops. “Yeah, you are!”

When they head downstairs a few moments later, Chad stays behind, taking a small cloth bundle out of his pocket. He unties a bit of the cording wrapped around it, and swings it around his head three times before tucking it back into his pocket. The air around him shimmers and crackles for a brief second before the glamour settles. Chad can almost feel it draping over him. It should hold for the night, keeping his true identity hidden to visitors. “Thanks, Larry,” he whispers, heading down the stairs. He might vanish from any photos taken tonight, but it doesn’t matter. Chad is going to remember this night forever!

* * *  
The party is just on the crest of insanity when Bitty heads out the door to relieve Chowder. He lost Jack an hour ago; his window is dark from the outside. Bitty sighs, hoping that means Jack is mingling and not holed up somewhere. Jack, of all people, deserves to have a fun night.

The walk to the dorms clears Bitty’s head. He was careful to only have two beers, though there was a moment when the crowd was calling for him to do a keg stand—he did, after all, assist on the championship winning goal—but Chad had seen the worry on his face and reached into his pocket quickly and suddenly everyone around Bitty had dissipated. Bitty isn’t sure what exactly he did, but it worked. He takes out his phone to shoot off a quick thank you text. The reply is a blurry, nine-second video of Chad in a keg stand, Holster’s booming voice counting off the seconds in the background before the video abruptly cuts off. Bitty laughs. It’s always nice when a demon can come to college and broaden his horizons, he guesses.

Bitty waves at the security guard on the way into Chowder’s building. “Hey Bitty,” he calls.

“Hey, Mike. How’d your son’s competition go?”

“Second place. He’s guaranteed a spot in the state karate championships.”

“Well, that’s just awesome. I’m heading up. See you on the flip.”

“Okay, but Chow’s already got one guest signed in. The limit is two, so if anyone else comes one of you has to leave.”

Bitty pauses. Maybe Farmer came over to keep Chowder company? But even if she wouldn’t remember Claire later, it would be a really awkward explanation…Bitty picks up his pace on the stairs, and almost forgets to not knock, in case Claire’s asleep. He turns the doorknob gently. It’s unlocked. He swings the door open. Jack is sitting cross legged on Chowder’s bed, Chowder nowhere in sight.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann,” Bitty hisses. “What on earth are you doing here? Your shift isn’t for another two hours!”

Jack glances at Bitty from where he’s sitting on the bed. “I sent Chowder to the party. Come look at this.” Bitty huffs out a sigh and crosses the room in three steps, following Jack’s gaze to Claire, propped up on Chowder’s pillow and decked out in a sleeping sack that makes her look like a fuzzy caterpillar.

Bitty melts at the sight, resisting the urge to grab his phone and take a picture, and instead reaching out to wiggle her foot. “Okay, who bought her that? That is just unfairly cute.”

“Shh, watch,” Jack says, without moving his eyes from the baby. He moves his fingers toward her face, and right before he’s about to make contact, snatches his hand away, making a fist and saying “Got your nose!” Claire shrieks and giggles, and as her laugh grows louder, a faint purple glow rises around her.

“Oh my god,” Bitty breathes out softly and sitting down next to Jack. As Claire quiets down, her big, dark eyes following Jack’s hand, the glow fades to amber. When Jack moves his hand back to her face and opens his fist to bop her on the nose, she laughs even harder, and the glow morphs to deep violet. After a few more rounds of the game, Claire’s laughs slow down, and her eyes begin to droop. Jack carefully scoops her up and takes her across the room to where the bottom dresser drawer has been lined with blankets. “You are an amazing tiny person, ma petite,” he says, tucking her into her makeshift crib. Satisfied that Claire is snug and safe, he walks back to the bed, arranging himself to face Bitty. “How’s the party going?”

Bitty, still feeling soft around the edges from Claire’s light show, has to work to get some exasperation in his reply. “Well, it’s about two more rounds of beer pong from full out crazy, but you aren’t gonna see it cause you’re here. Why are you here, Jack? You should be enjoying your last big party with the team.”

“This is where I want to be, Bitty.”

Bitty furrows his brow. “ With Claire? Jack, you know you shouldn’t get too attached—“

“No, not Claire. I mean, she’s amazing, but…” Jack trails off.

“But?” Bitty prompts.

“Bittle, do you know what Kent told me after he did the spell?” Jack asks.

“No. Is that why you aren’t at the party? Cause of what happened at the last one? I swear Jack, I will call him right now and make sure he’s not making another surprise trip—“

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Bitty, let me finish.”

“—he may be a big star, and it was real nice for him to help us out, but that doesn’t mean he gets to…Jack, did you just call me Bitty?”

“Will you let me talk now?”

“Oookay.”

Jack licks his lips, hesitating for a moment before he speaks. “I’m here cause I knew you’d be here. This is where I want to be. With you.”

“With me?”

“You, Bittle.” Jack’s smile is soft, and he’s looking at Bitty with an intensity that is giving Bitty goosebumps. “According to Kent, my aura lights up like, and I quote, ‘a motherfucking Beyonce concert’ when I’m around you.”

“What? It does?”

Jack’s smile sharpens; Bitty can see his teeth. “He says yours does too, when you’re around me. Between the two of us, we’re bright as the Vegas strip.”

Bitty groans. “Kent Parson, your metaphors are atrocious. Jack, I don’t—I don’t even know what to say.”

“Say you like me too, Bitty,” Jack says, moving up on the bed. “Say you want me, too. That you knew it like I did, no aura needed.” Jack shifts his weight forward, closing in on Bitty, stopping when his face is just inches from Bitty’s. “Say it, Bitty. Say yes.”

“You knew before?“

“I knew before. Say yes. Please.”

It’s the please that does it, cutting straight through to Bitty’s heart as he replies. “I knew, too. Yes, Jack. Yes.”

Jack closes the distance between them and presses his mouth to Bitty’s. His lips are warm and a little chapped, and Bitty presses in, bringing a hand to the back of Jack’s neck and twining his fingers into the soft hair at the nape. Jack gasps a little when Bitty gives a gentle tug, and Bitty opens his mouth, deepening the kiss. Jack cups Bitty’s face with one hand, his calloused thumb tracing Bitty’s cheek. When they break apart, breathing fast, Jack drags his thumb across Bitty’s lower lip. Bitty parts his lips, biting gently at the tip of Jack’s thumb. Jack shivers, his eyes wide. Bitty tilts forward, pushing at Jack’s shoulders, and Jack gently topples back, his head hitting the pillow. Bitty follows him, and they kiss again, and again, till Jack uses his hips to tip Bitty over, so they’re lying on their sides. Bitty moves one hand to caress Jack’s neck, and follows it with his lips, half licking, half kissing, tugging the collar of Jack’s shirt down to reveal his clavicle, and gently nipping along the bone. Jack groans, and suddenly grabs Bitty’s waist and rolls them both over. He looks down at Bitty, and promptly bursts out laughing.

“Jack?” Bitty asks, running his hands over Jack’s chest. Jack laughs even harder. “Jack, “ Bitty says again, frowning. “Not really boosting my confidence, you know.”

“Bitty,” Jack says, and the nickname cuts through the worry, “Bitty, look at Chow’s sheets.” Bitty turns his head to see where the bed cover had been rucked down by their movement. Chowder’s sheets are covered in cartoon sharks.

“Oh,” Bitty says, beginning to laugh. “Okay, yeah. That’s pretty funny.”

Jack rolls off Bitty, tucking himself along his side. He props his head on one hand, and reaches over to brush his fingertips along Bitty’s ear and trail down his jaw. “Can we buy this poor kid some real sheets?” Jack asks, continuing to trail his fingers along Bitty’s jaw.

Bitty leans into the touch. “Oh dear lord, yes. I have a 20% off Bed Bath and Beyond coupon.”

“Bittle. I think I’m good for it.”

“Excuse you, Mr. Zimmermann. Retail is for suckers.”

Jack just smiles and moves to lay his head on Bitty’s shoulder. “Ok. Sure. I’ll take you to Bed Bath and Beyond, where we will save 20% and then you’re letting me take you to a very nice diner.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Jack.”

“Mmm.”

“Jack, you can’t fall asleep.”

“Mmmm.”

“Chowder might come back.”

“And then he’ll probably ask me to autograph his horrible sheets. Relax, Bittle. Sleep a little.” Jack’s still flush against Bitty’s side with his head on his shoulder, and one hand rubbing softly against Bittle’s stomach. Bitty slowly strokes Jack’s hair. He falls asleep almost immediately.

* * *

Jack wakes up to an elbow to the nose.

“Oof,” he grunts, knocking Bitty’s arm away. The dorm beds are a rough fit for two people. Jack’s left leg is entirely off the bed, and the parts of Bitty that aren’t mashed into his side are pressed against the cinderblock wall. Jack shifts around, trying to tuck his limbs in a little more, but all he does is wake up Bitty.

“Mmmph what time is it?” Bitty asks, groping around in the blankets for his phone. The light from the screen is harsh when he finds it. “Oh lord, the group text. I am not ready to wade through all that.”

“When was the last one?” Jack asks, sitting up and stretching.

Bitty watches the movement of Jack’s arms, his eyes straying to where Jack’s jean have ridden low. “Um, two hours ago? It’s almost 4:30.”

Jack yawns and stands, walking toward the dresser. “We should head back.”

They take a few moments to pack everything up. Claire doesn’t even fuss when Jack lifts her up, just turns in his arms to smoosh her face into his chest. “Smart baby,” Bitty mumbles, smoothing out Chowder’s bed. He pauses, and then takes out his camera and snaps of photo of the ridiculous sheets. Back up chirping material is never a bad thing.

The campus is silent as they walk back to the Haus together. After they clear the dorms, Jack reaches out and grabs Bitty’s hand, and they both slow down as they walk, drawing out the moment. It’s not long at all before they’re in front of the Haus. Bitty lets go first, turning to face Jack. “Jack, what do we do now?” he asks.

Jack glances from him to the Haus. “For now? Put Claire in her crib. Sleep a little more. Figure the rest out tomorrow. Sound okay?”

“Yeah,” Bitty says, nodding. “I can live with that.”

The Haus is quiet as they approach the front door. Bitty is still searching for his keys when the front door swings open, and a guy lurches out. “Oh hey,” Jack says, “Anders, from the lax house? Right? Hey, man, is something wrong with your eyes? Anders?” Bitty, looking through his backpack, doesn’t hear the reply before a burst of pain hits his temple and he falls down, his head hitting the welcome mat. His vision is swimming with spots but he can just make out the blur of Jack’s crimson hoodie and a loud thump as Jack falls next to him. The last thing he hears before he fully passes out is Claire’s sharp, loud crying, quickly fading as Anders takes her away from the Haus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up: Dealing with hangovers of the regular and magical variety OR "So A Spell Whammied Lax Bro Kidnapped Your Mystical Baby, a guide for when you realize your Haus magical creatures are not the only mystical others on campus."
> 
> Mondo thanks, as usual, to muchandquick.


	5. Unexpected Allies Both Undead and Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a cavalry is assembled, more or less, and things both go better and worse than planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the (very) long delay between updates. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Bitty wakes to a lurching sensation. He tentatively opens one eye, only to see a blur of green in front of him. He groans. “Finally,” a voice above him says. Bitty starts to bring his hand to his aching head, and the voice comes back. “Bits, you gotta hold still till I get you up the stairs. “

“Chad?” Bitty says, opening his eyes slowly. The green blur in front of his face turns out to be the back of Chad’s legs. Bitty’s being fireman carried, his head perilously close to the floor. “Chad,” Bitty says, struggling to focus, “where’s Jack? Where’s Claire?”

“One thing at a time, bro,” Chad answers, swinging a door open. “You got a nasty hex on you.” A few seconds later, Bitty is deposited onto the floor of the Haus entryway. Chad steps back, looking him up and down, assessing something or other that is totally beyond Bitty. He frowns, then moves forward, saying, “Hold very, very still.” Chad waves his arms over Bitty, mumbling something that sounds mostly sibilant, pausing to gently press his thumbs to Bitty’s forehead. Bitty gags – the room suddenly smells rotten, but a second later the skin Chad is touching heats up, and as he pulls his thumbs away a green trail of vapor follows them. “Got it,” Chad says. 

“Thanks,” Bitty says, sitting up. “Chad, what even—“ 

“Look,” Chad interrupts. “We don’t have a lot of time to fix this. Things are…complicated. As soon as you feel like you can stand up, come to the living room.”

“I just need to find Jack—wait what are your eyes doing? Is that what happens when you’re mad? It’s terrifying! Can you control it or is it…ow, stop pinching me. Okay, okay,” Bitty says, hustling up off the floor. “I’m going.” Bitty wobbles a little when he stands, but he trudges to the living room anyway, following the low sounds of an ongoing conversation. He can make out Jack and Chowder’s voices, as he gets closer. He gasps when he enters the room. Red plastic cups are strewn everywhere, and what looks like an exploded keg is in a heap by the window. The couch is giving off wisps of smoke, but the truly horrifying thing is Ransom, Holster, Shitty, and Lardo, piled onto the middle of the floor in front of the couch, not moving. Bitty cries out and rushes forward, stopped by Jack’s arm around his waist. “Bitty,” he says, pulling him back as he struggles to free himself. “They’re fine. They’re breathing, they’re comfortable. Dex and Nurse are upstairs, same situation.” 

“I checked everyone, Bitty. I promise!” Chowder says, from his spot behind Jack. 

“Jack, we have to help them—“ Bitty says frantically.

“Chad did help them, Bitty,” Jack says. “He just doesn’t have the energy to wake up everyone.”

“Weaker during daylight. Hash tag demon problems,” Chad says, as Bitty stops struggling to get to his friends, all effort useless against Jack’s strong arms. 

“Jack,” Bitty says, “what on earth happened?”

Jack sighs, glancing at Chowder, who nods encouragingly. “Well, the best we can figure, the chanting during the keg stands at the party--I cannot believe I’m about to say this--accidentally summoned another demon.”

“Another demon,” Bitty repeats.

“Yup,” Jack says. 

“I would like to remind everyone that I always knew that couch was evil,” Bitty says, shaking his head. “Okay. We summoned another demon. This demon is where?”

“At the lacrosse frat, holding Claire hostage,” Jack answers.

Bitty frowns. “So…it wants a tribute?”

“Yes.”

Bitty’s frown deepens. “I’m guessing it is not as chill as Chad and its demands are gross and unpleasant.”

“The term ‘blood sacrifice’ keeps coming up,” Chowder says, wincing.

“And the lacrosse bros?” Bitty asks, failing to resist the temptation to poke at Shitty’s arm with his foot.

“Stop that,” Jack says, glancing down. “Chowder says when the demon appeared they all went into some kind of trance and started attacking people, knocking them out and hexing them. We’re pretty sure they’re in their house with Claire, but we need to go look and find out for sure.”

Chowder shudders a little. “I’m really glad you weren’t here. This demon is all huge and smoking and awful. Everyone was screaming and falling down, and Chad got trapped and couldn’t help, and, ugh. Worst kegster ever.”

Bitty walks over and rubs Chowder’s shoulder a little. “Okay, I’ve got a picture of what happened, I think. Chad, why did you wake us up instead of the others?”

Chad looks at his friends still knocked out on the floor. “You guys are closest to Claire, so I figured you had the best chance to rescue her.”

Bitty absolutely does not tear up at that, and he’s sure that the throat clearing noise Jack makes is due to the last bit of smoke rolling off the couch. Bitty thinks a moment before saying, “You know we’ll do our best to get her back, but since you can’t un-whammy the rest of our friends, it’s the three of us versus a literal team of spelled bros and a bonus demon. I’m not sure that’s gonna work.”

“Uh,” Jack says, not meeting Bitty’s eyes. “We have a few reinforcements.”

* * *

“Like, oh my god, I can’t believe how clean our bathroom is since you moved in!” Mandy says, swirling around Bitty.

“Yeah, and did the aura shift lie to me or did you two finally make out?” Jenny asks, running her fingers up Jack’s arm while smiling at Bitty. Jack shivers. Bitty blushes. Chowder looks unsurprised. 

Bitty groans. “Jack, when you said reinforcements, I was kind of expecting…not this.“

“Um, hello?” Mandy says, stopping her examination of the beers left on the mantle. “We are totally here to defend our house and all residents thereof!” 

“Also,” Jenny adds, “I took a self-defense class freshman year and passed with flying colors.” 

“That’s great!” Bitty says, trying to sound enthusiastic. “But, y’all can’t actually fight anything, right? I mean…can you even move stuff?”

Mandy huffs as she picks up an empty cup. “Check your corporeal privilege, Eric. Do you know how hard it is to touch stuff when you’re dead? Super hard. But we figured it out, obvi! I mean, Ransom’s ass is pretty motivating—“

“Okay great you can touch things good!” Bitty gets out in a rush. “But, don’t we need a little more to get past like, twenty guys and a demon?”

“What, like it’s hard?” Mandy says, flipping her hair. 

* * *

It turns out that it might be a little hard. 

Reconnaissance is a disaster. Chad is bound to the Haus and can’t leave it. Mandy and Jenny can, but they also emit a soft glow that would ruin any chance of not being seen. So that leaves Eric to climb up Jack and peer through the windows of the Lax house himself, with Chowder as a look out. 

“Jack, stop wiggling,” Eric says, from where he’s perched on Jack’s shoulders, gingerly using a corner of his sleeve to clear a peep hole in the dirty glass. He squints as he presses his face to it. “Ugh, there’s like, a dozen of them just standing around in a circle. I can’t see past that. Chowder, back up, I’m coming down.”

Jack hunches down as Bitty pushes off from his shoulders. He lands in a crouch next to Chowder and briefly straightens up before slumping into Jack. Jack bends down to press a kiss into his hair. 

Chowder looks at them thoughtfully. “So, when Mandy said you guys made out, was it when you were at my dorm during the party?”

“Uh…” Jack says, looking down to meet Bitty’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“’swawesome,” Chowder whispers, as they start walking back to the house.

* * *

“I’m not saying I don’t like our odds,” Bitty says hesitantly as the group sits at the kitchen table. “I’m just saying that the three of us non-supernatural humans plus a demon at daylight induced half-power plus two ghosts isn’t exactly The Avengers.”

“Listen,” Jenny says, leaning forward and half through the table, “stop selling us short. Mandy and I totally have the bros covered. Theta Alpha Theta sisters know their way around a frat party.”

“It’s a horde of possessed guys following orders from a demon, not a frat party,” Bitty says, testily.

Mandy shrugs. “Sounds like pledge week.”

“And the other demon will be weaker from the daytime, too!” Chad chimes in. “Well, maybe. It kind of varies based on if the ascension schedule of your talisman’s ruling celestial-- 

“Okay, fine,” Bitty interrupts, a note of hysteria edging into his voice, “even if you two ladies take out all the bros, and even if our freshly conjured demon is weaker than usual, our only real weapon is Chad’s spell casting, which he would have to do from here while we’re over there. What are we gonna do, put him on speaker phone??”

“Maybe Skype?” Chad asks.

Bitty’s verging on hyperventilating when Jack pulls his own phone out from his pocket and sighs. He gets up from the table and says, “We’ve got one other person on our team. C’mon Bittle, let’s go to the porch.”

Somehow, the sight of Kent Parson on the porch doesn’t calm Bitty down very much.

“Yo, Bittle, let’s go kick some demon ass, just like I kicked the Rangers last night. Hah! Hey wait—your aura. It’s…oh. My. God. Did you two make out? No, no, don’t tell me. Let me guess. Was he tender, Bittle? Was he gentle? Did he—“

“Kent Parson, the chances of you ever tasting a single bite of my pie are diminishing by the second,” Bitty yells, throwing his hands in the air as he stomps back to the front door.

“Way harsh, Bittle!” Kent calls after him.

* * * *

Jack and Kent hash out a strategy on the porch while Chowder and Bitty stay inside to distract Chad from the mouth-watering scent of Kent Parson’s blood. Twenty minutes later, Kent, Bitty, Jack, and the ghosts are standing at the threshold of the Lax house, while Chad and Chowder stay in the Haus to run protection spells.

Jack moves to put his hand on the doorknob, glancing back at Bitty, who touches his Bluetooth headset. “Chad? Chowder?” he asks. There’s a brief pause as they confirm, then Bitty nods at Jack. Kent sets his game face, Mandy and Jenny give thumbs up, and Jack throws the door open.

The ghosts rush through Jack and swirl around the boys in the living room, their giggles amplified. Kent throws a handful of ash through the door, and the shielding collapses with a popping sound and a whiff of sage. “Barrier’s down, go, go now!” Kent says, as Bitty and Jack run in, squinting into the darkness.

“I can’t see!” Jack shouts, as he and Bitty lurch into the hazy room. “Kent, you gotta clear out all this mist!” Kent yells something that’s all consonants and harsh sounds. Bitty’s field of vision clears, and he rushes past the ghosts, who are enthralling a dozen or so lax bros with their sophomore year rush skit as planned, the bros swaying softly as the girls dance and sing the praises of Theta Alpha Theta. Ahead of Bitty, Jack slams into a tall, solidly built dude at the same time Kent does something that sounds like an amplified sneeze, and the guy flies a good ten feet from the impact before crashing into the wall. “Bitty! I can’t find Claire!” Jack shouts at the same time Kent screams “JACK LOOK BEHIND--!”

The whole house rumbles and shakes, and Bitty is thrown to his knees, his vision going dark around the edges as the now familiar heavy coolness of a hex wraps around him. “No,” he whispers, shaking his head and raising his hand to touch his headset. “No, no, no, Chad? Chad, I’m hexed! Help!”

Everything goes blurry, and then, Bitty sees the gold tendrils of Chad’s magic seeping away from him as the darkness lifts. “Thank you,” Bitty whispers, as he gets up and rushes to catch up to Jack.

Bitty vaults an overturned chair and slides into the frat’s kitchen. Jack is there, Claire in his arms. Bitty could cry with relief, if not for the giant, hulking, slightly smoldering demon that’s cornering them against the refrigerator. Its back spans at least three feet, massive muscles rippling beneath blistered magenta colored skin. It lurches toward Jack, its horned head bumping the ceiling. Bitty holds his breath and inches backwards. If he can find Kent fast enough, maybe—

Across the room, Jack twists his body, trying to cover Claire. Claire squirms at the movement and turns her head, spotting Bitty. She starts kicking her feet, heels drumming against Jack’s stomach. Bitty raises his finger to his lips, shaking his head. Claire giggles and starts to glow a faint rose color. “Bibble!” she squeals, reaching her chubby hands toward him. The demon starts to turn, and all Bitty can see is Jack’s eyes, huge and terrified, over its shoulder. 

Bitty’s mind goes absolutely blank with terror as the demon faces him, eyes blazing orange and row after row of teeth gleaming in its giant, hideous mouth. It reaches out with its enormous arm and swings at him. Bitty ducks, but he underestimates the demon’s reach, and its meaty fist catches him full in the chest. Bitty flies across the room, sliding across the floor and smacking into a row of cabinets. His headpiece is flung off by the impact, skittering to a stop a few feet from his head as the demon steps closer, Jack and Claire seemingly forgotten. “CHAD!” Bitty bellows through the pain, “CHAD HELP!”

The demon stops in its tracks, tilting its head to the side to look at Bitty. “Wait,” it says, voice deep but unexpectedly human sounding. “Chad? Do you mean Chad the couch demon?”

“What?” Bitty croaks.

“Oh, my god!” the demon continues, gesturing at Jack and Claire. “This—this is Chad’s mystical baby? The one he conjured last week? Haha! Oh man, wait till I tell Larry about this. He was just bragging on Chad last night, telling me all about it! Bro’s gonna be so jealous that I got to see his brother’s work before he did. Ooof, I had no idea you guys were part of Chad’s domain. My bad. Tribute poaching, what a faux pas, can you even imagine if I had killed one of you? Egg on my face, man.”

Bitty gawks at the demon.

“Anyway, sorry about all this,” it continues. “Total mix up. No hard feelings, right? Tell Chad that Ackmar the Smuld says hey.” And with that, a blinding flash fills the room, and the demon is gone. 

Bitty and Jack blink at each other across the now empty kitchen, then Bitty rolls over on his back. “What just happened?” he asks for what feels like the millionth time that day. Jack rushes over, one hand holding Claire to his side, the other running over Bitty’s body. 

“You hit that wall so hard, I thought you…Are you okay? What hurts?” Jack asks, his eyes still wide and scared. 

“Everything,” Bitty says, raising himself up on his elbows only to flop back down on the floor and close his eyes. “Everything hurts. I think you’re gonna have to carry me home.”

“I can take the baby,” Kent says, his face popping up behind Jack’s shoulder. “Sorry. My magic got locked up and as much as I am totally here to help, I smell far too delicious to face a demon defenseless.”

Bitty opens one eye and does his best to glare.

“Hey, there was no point to getting me and Zimms both killed. Anyway, you gonna pass me that baby so you can get home and make googly eyes at each other or what?”

“Life time pie ban,” Bitty says, as Jack passes Claire over to Kent before bending to carefully scoop up Bitty. 

“Stanely Cup win exemption?” Kent asks hopefully, gingerly stepping around shattered kitchen table as they make their way out.

“Olympics only,” Bitty says, leaning his head into Jack’s shoulder.

“Deal,” Kent says, sidestepping a passed out lax bro. 

Mandy and Jenny are waiting for them by the door, smiling from ear to ear. “Still got it!” They said in unison, high fiving. Bitty lifted his head enough to see a couple lax bros sitting on the couch, shaking their heads and looking dazed. 

The ghosts trail them out into the sunny yard and back across the street to the Haus. Before Jack can shift Bitty enough to free up a hand for the door, it swings open.

“You absolute fucking beauts,” Shitty says, moving aside to let Jack in. Bitty smiles as relief floods his body and he finally lets himself pass out.


	6. Unexpected Visitors of Various Sorts

Bitty can feel the warmth of fingers tracing his cheek, moving down his jaw, and back up. He smiles, eyes still closed. “Jack,” he says.

“Nope,” a voice next to his ear says.

Bitty’s eyes fly open. He’s in his own bed, though there seem to be far more pillows and blankets than usual. He’s starting to sweat a little. Oh, and Kent Parson is lying next to him, his sea-glass colored eyes flashing from green to gray to blue as he looks at Bitty intently and trails his fingers across Bitty’s collar bone.

“Hold still,” Kent says. “I’m just checking for any lingering shit.”

“Uh—“ Bitty starts, but Kent glares, his eyes flashing amber. Bitty shuts his mouth.

A few moments later Kent’s eyes settle to a gray-blue, and he sits back, crossing his legs, still watching Bitty. “You look sweaty. Do you feel okay?”

“There’s just so many blankets,” Bitty says, wriggling his arms out of the cocoon of linens. 

Kent smiles, softly. “Yeah, your boys bundled you up good. They were pretty worried about you. The tall blond one kissed your forehead while tucking you in. Real sweet.”

Bitty laughs. “That’s not surprising. So, everyone’s okay? And Claire?”

“Yup,” Kent says. “All downstairs, waiting for you. I can’t find any trace magic on you, so you’re probably good.”

Bitty sighs, relieved. “Great, I wanna see them and Miss Claire. Get off the bed so I can get out from these covers and—“

“Though,” Kent continues, as if Bitty weren’t already talking, “if you’re not magically whammied, how do you explain hooking up with Zimms—ow! Ow, Bittle, pinching? Really? I’m kidding, I’m kidding, I hope you two have a fucking love for the ages…aw, man, that’s gonna bruise.” Kent rubs at his upper arm, sniffling dramatically. Bitty ignores him, focused on unwinding the insane amount of blankets covering him, and then finding his shoes. “Bro?” Kent asks, looking sheepish. “Do you want my blessing?”

Bitty raises an eyebrow. “Uh, I don’t think we need it?”

Kent shakes his head. “No, not like that. An actual blessing. Fae magic. You know, protection and what not?” As Kent speaks, a few white sparks dance across his fingers.

Bitty grimaces. “That’s a sweet offer, but I think I’ve had enough magic to last me a good long while.”

Kent laughs, and the sparks fade, but his hand is still extra warm and tingling when he slaps Bitty’s back and pulls him into a hug. “You did good,” Kent says before he releases him, almost like he can’t help but to offer some kind of benediction. Bitty lets the warmth sink in before letting go. The two of them head downstairs.

* * *

Rounds of good byes are said, and Kent drives off, half of the lemon meringue pie Bitty had made the day before tucked into a cooler on the seat beside him. 

As soon as Kent’s car rounds the corner, Ransom jogs to the living room and thunks his fist against the couch three times. A few moments later, Chad appears, sniffing deeply and licking his lips. “Stop that,” Bitty says, smacking him lightly on the back of the head. “He’s already gone, you’re gonna have to make do with pie.” 

Everyone heads to the kitchen, Bitty stopping to pet Claire’s soft hair while she sleeps strapped into her carrier on the kitchen table. Bitty serves the rest of the lemon meringue and pulls an apple crumb from behind a wall of condiments in the fridge, shrugging at Jack’s surprised face. “Parson’s moved up a couple notches in my estimation, but not enough to clear out the ice box when my boys still need feeding,” he explains, passing the pie to Jack and grabbing the milk. 

The thrilling tale of victory against the Lax bro demon was told while Bitty was passed out, but they boys want to hear Bitty’s version of it while they methodically demolish his baking. As Bitty describes seeing Jack cornered in the kitchen and how scared he was, Jack reaches over to stroke his arm. Ransom notices immediately, and suddenly there’s a lot of screaming and back thumping and “FINALLY, BROS.” Bitty and Jack end up under a heap of emotional hockey players, and the insane commotion and noise wakes Claire. Her wailing almost covers the sound of the doorbell. Chowder peels himself off the dog pile and bundles her into his arms before he runs to the door.

Everyone is more or less back in a chair, though Bitty and Jack look decidedly rumpled from all the hair ruffling and thumping hugs they just received, when Chowder comes back, his face stricken. 

The Child Protective Service officers are standing behind him. Jack rises, putting on what everyone in the room recognizes as his sternest captain’s face. “Officers, we can explain about the lax demon.”

“As intriguing as that sounds,” Officer John says, “I have no idea what you mean. Let’s keep it that way.”

Jack looks confused. “So, if not that, why are you here?”

“We found Claire a family. They’ll be here in a couple hours.”

“Oh,” Jack says, sitting down hard.

“Oh,” Bitty says, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping Jack’s shoulder.

“No!” Chowder says, clutching Claire closer to him.

“Boys,” Officer John says. “It’s going to be okay.”

* * * 

Officers John and Rodriguez are kind but firm as they tell the team their news. Alice, part fae, and Tim, who has some magical manifestations that don’t seem to fall into any particular category, live in Lowell, an hour’s drive away. They have a toddler, and they want him to have a sibling to grow up with. The have a big house with a yard and garden with chickens, and a big, friendly rescue dog. They’re finalizing the last of the paperwork now, and, barring traffic, should be at Samwell by dinner. 

Officer Rodriguez finishes her spiel. The room is silent. 

“Well,” Bitty offers, his voice wavering. “They do sound lovely.”

“They really are,” she replies. “You boys have done an exceptional job with Claire, and Alice and Tim are so grateful to you.”

“Do you think they’d let us visit?” Chowder asks, Claire still dozing in his arms.

“They are already planning a dinner for you guys next month.”

Some of the tension seeps out of the room with that. Chad does his vanishing act, mumbling “freaking faes all up in my Haus” as he goes, and the rest of the team starts the task of packing up Claire’s things. 

* * * 

Alice and Tim arrive just after five. They are practically vibrating with excitement as they introduce themselves to the team in the front yard. Tim is still shaking hands when Alice steps back to open the trunk of their car. “We so appreciate you looking after Claire while we were waiting for her,” she says. “As just the tiniest token of our gratitude, we brought you some things from our farm stand.” 

She reaches into the trunk and pulls out an absolutely enormous basket, full of jars and bottles. “This is our ultra deluxe jam and jellies sampler.”

Bitty’s eyes go huge. “Oh my word, you shouldn’t have!” 

Alice smiles at him. “It’s all Tim’s work—he taught himself how to jam and can things when we started gardening and now we have this business. I can’t get that man out of the kitchen these days. He got a sense that someone here likes to bake. Is it you?”

Bitty blushes a little. “You could say that. I’m Eric Bittle, so pleased to meet you.” 

Tim turns from where he is chatting with Holster. “Eric Bittle? From the Internet? I love your videos! I made your lemon chiffon cake for Alice’s last birthday – hey, how do you feel about jam pies?”

“What?” Bitty says, blinking as Tim enthusiastically shakes his hand.

“Any time you want to come up and visit Claire and help me with prototypes, you just call, okay?”

“What?” Bitty turns to Jack, laughing. “What is even happening?”

Jack shrugs. “Well, Eric Bittle from the Internet, I think you have a fan.”

Tim gives Jack a scrutinizing look. “Hold up. I’m getting a sense on this one. Eric, is this that boy you took the class with? The one you talk about all the—“

“HAHA,” Bitty says, loudly. “I HAVEN’T SHOWN YOU THE KITCHEN THIS WAY NOW PLEASE,” he yells over Jack’s sputtering, taking Tim by an elbow and firmly leading him toward the Haus proper.

* * *

Alice and Tim both cry when they pick up Claire for the first time.

So does most of the team.

Her new parents can’t take their eyes off her, and Alice’s fingers glow a soft gold as she touches Claire’s tiny fingers and toes. “She’s perfect,” she whispers. Tim nods.

The team helps Alice load the car up with Claire’s things while Tim conferences with Chowder, taking down Claire’s schedule and likes and dislikes. 

Everything is ready far too soon, but the team crowds around Claire’s carrier, carefully bopping her nose and wiggling her toes. Alice and Tim hold back as long as they can, but they are clearly anxious to get their daughter home, and Tim offers an apologetic smile as he buckles her in, testing the straps three times. After hugs and goodbyes and a promise that their door is always open for visits, the little family drives off. The team waves after the car until it turns a corner, then sadly trudges back into the too quiet Haus.

Well, almost too quiet.

“Bros!” Chad greets them, shouting through his mouthful of sandwich. “I could feel Claire leave, so I thought it was safe to come up. Also,” he says, pointing at the massive sandwich on his plate, “got crazy hungry.”

A tiny, tiny green being is sitting to his left, directly on the table top, scooping up the remnants of apple crisp with its hands. 

Chad continues, between bites, “Guys, I got a promotion! Ackmar the Smuld put in a word for me! You remember him? From the thing at the lax house?”

“Vaguely,” Jack says, taking a seat. “And who is this?” he asks, gesturing at the tiny stranger. It can’t be more than a foot tall, but has the same pebbly skin and red eyes as Chad. It turns and smiles at Bitty. Same horrible pointy teeth, too. 

“C’mon, this is Larry! My brother? I figured you guys would recognize him! We look so much alike!” Chad glances at Larry, who nods. “Oh, he can’t talk to you. It would kind of melt your brain. Sorry,” Chad says apologetically.

“Well, we can’t have that. Brain melting, and all,” Holster says, faintly.

Ransom makes a pained sound while he assesses Larry, and then says, “Larry, great to meet you. Chad, good to see you. I’m going the fuck to bed before any more weird or sad shit happens. C’mon, Holtzy.” Ransom tugs at Holster’s arm, and the two of them head up the stairs, Holster protesting, “It’s only seven thirty!”

“Rude,” Chad says, using his finger to swipe a bit of mustard from his lip. “I was all set to try and convince them to come visit Larry and my hell dimension instead of Niagara this summer.”

“You might want to wait a few days on that, Chad,” Jack says. 

Larry grunts.

“I hear you man,” Shitty says. Larry and Chad perk up. “I didn’t mean that literally, Shitty amends. The demons deflate a little, Chad mumbling, “It’s never the ones you want to be magical that are.”

The humans and demons eventually end up on the couch, watching Back to the Future. Bitty curls up on Jack, as ever avoiding actual contact with the couch fabric. 

Half way through the movie, their group chat chimes. Chowder forwarded a video that Alice and Tim sent him. In it, Claire is laughing at a small boy, who is making a slightly worn stuffed bunny dance just out of her reach. She squeals with laughter and makes grabbing motions, lighting up in a pink glow. The next text says, “Thanks for the bunny – it’s her second favorite toy. I think her brother is number one.” 

“When did she get a stuffed bunny?” Chowder texts.

Bitty clears his throat, and nestles more closely into Jack’s arms.

* * *

Alice and Tim hold true to their word about hosting the boys, and Claire grows up with a band of uncles who cheer her first steps, attend her preschool graduation, and eventually watch her play with their own children. She’s five when Bitty and Jack get to introduce her to their twin boys, and as soon as she sets eyes on them she lights up with an orange glow that takes hours to fade. 

She gifts the twins with Senor Bunny before they leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S DONE! *throws confetti*
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Your comments and kudos mean so much. This is the longest thing I've ever written, it took forever, and I had a lot of fun. I love these hockey boys so much. If you want to come scream about them with me, I'm agrossunderstatement on tumblr.


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